


The Unrequited

by cocoa_the_maniac



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Deception, Dubious Consent, F/M, M/M, Manipulation, Mild Language, Rape Fantasy, Sex, Violence, You Have Been Warned, hunter is a creep, hunter really wants to kill jay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 11:33:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6752317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cocoa_the_maniac/pseuds/cocoa_the_maniac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harrison Wells was the smartest man alive.</p><p>As possibly the only man capable of improving Hunter's speed, as well as being the long-time object of his desire, Hunter decides to enlist the man's help by posing as Jay Garrick, 'The Flash'.</p><p>His twin brother.</p><p>[This is a dark AU reinterpreting the events of the show had Hunter been infatuated with Harrison prior to the Singularlity.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unrequited

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hunter Zolomon strikes me as a predator in every meaning of the word. He’s cold and callous and so far removed from reality, it’s a wonder he pulled off his charade for as long as he did. Needless to say, I’m glad we got a glimpse of what his twisted idea of what real a relationship should be like in _Back to Normal_ because it made writing this piece so much easier.
> 
> Now, the premise of this story was to look at the kind of relationship Harry and Hunter might've had prior to the start of season 2, but this story will ultimately end around the midseason finale. Obviously, the show is continuously dropping us more clues about Hunter's history, but the overall plot for this story has already been written out, and the whole thing should be completed in about three chapters. I apologize for not making this a one-shot like I usually do. It just got to be a little too long.
> 
>  **Disclaimer** : Much of the whole Hunter/Jay "twin theory" described in this story was based off of [ladyofpride](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofpride/works)'s own ideas. She also happens to be my beta and my co-author, so a lot of credit for this story obviously goes to her.
> 
>  **Important note** : Before you begin -- _no_ , Harrison was not raped during the war. I do believe he was hurt in other ways though, of which there are many.

The Flash was a menace.

Not to the public, of course. So far as they were concerned, he was the complete opposite, a shining beacon of hope, being the only known metahuman both capable and willing to stand up against his own kind. He kept the streets safe at night. Made the normal folk feel as though the city was still theirs…

But Hunter knew his secret.

Knew his real name, his profession, his home address—just about everything there was _to know_ about the loveable Jay Garrick. In fact, the only thing he _didn’t_ know was how to beat the man, although the obvious answer to that was a well-aimed blow to the head or a knife to the gut or any of the many other methods Hunter favoured prior to obtaining his powers. However, that would require outpacing his nemesis on the battlefield, a feat that was next to impossible, if for no other reason than this man was the brother he had lost so many years ago.

This backward destiny of theirs was written in their DNA.

Reverb, on the other hand, thought otherwise.

Hunter first met Mr. Ramon and his brother shortly after obtaining his own powers. The young man had developed his trademark suit and promised to give Hunter intel on anyone whenever he desired, so long as Reverb could call on him for the odd favour. Hunter preferred to work alone, but the suit soon became his icon, and Reverb already knew the name of every detective working effortlessly to unravel the mystery surrounding Zoom’s true identity, so Hunter relented and made him the exception to the rule. It also helped that Reverb knew another name—the name of perhaps the only man capable of solving Hunter’s little dilemma:

“Dr. Harrison Wells,” Reverb said, hands folded neatly behind his back as he slowly walked the length of the alleyway. Hunter kept to his place in the shadows, eyes trailing after the younger man as he moved. “Smartest man alive. He made us— _technically_ , he should also know how to improve us.”

 _“He made us?”_ Hunter asked, only mildly surprised by this revelation. Harrison Well was a _very_ talented man. He’d been working tirelessly these last few months to design equipment for the police, and had already developed a variety of weapons that had been instrumental in apprehending a number of the other metahumans.

“He’s the mother of all metahumans,” Reverb quipped, smiling, walking onwards until he reached the mouth of the alley. Then he stopped and, without looking back, asked, “Did you think it was a coincidence we only started popping up _after_ the particle accelerator went live?”

Silently, Hunter watched his peculiar ally disappear into the night. He had never known Reverb to be wrong before. The man’s clairvoyance was the trick behind his trade.

He was therefore inclined to believe Harrison Wells truly was the answer…

~*~8~*~

The first time Hunter ever saw Harrison Wells in person was when he was thirteen.

Two years so far into the orphanage, a loner still, his only escape was science. He used to work as a paperboy on the weekends to save up cash for books and magazines, most of which began to feature Dr. Wells and his many avenues of research following the end of the war.

The man and his wife were trying to rebuild Central City by funding new researchers in the area, and had so far attracted a number of intellectuals, some of which were already working to redevelop the aboveground transit line at the time. It was therefore because of Wells and his wife that the power was back on in every corner of their ravaged city. It was because of him too that the water was clean and new infrastructure could be built. He was the one true reason the people came flooding back to their broken homes…

Dr. Harrison Wells was the Saviour of Central City.

He was Hunter’s personal saviour, too.

Dr. Wells’ facility, S.T.A.R. Labs, also funded a number of scholarships geared toward supporting students that were interested in pursuing some form of university or college degree. All they had to do was to place first, second, or third in one of the poster or oral presentations in their grade category at the annual science fair hosted at his facility. Each place was guaranteed the same prize: two years’ worth of funding for any post-secondary institution of their choice, so long as that institution was located somewhere the States.

Hunter won third place for his poster in his first year, and then second for his oral presentation the next. He liked to dabble in a variety of different topics, but was genuinely interested in researching cheaper water purification techniques, and it obviously showed.

Growing up, he truly aspired to work at S.T.A.R. Labs someday.

“Congratulations,” Harrison said to him that first year as he handed over the small, ceremonial trophy plaque to Hunter. Harrison was a young man himself at the time, being only twenty seven. His voice was surprisingly soft and his hand pleasantly warm when he gripped Hunter’s for a shake, but he stiffened noticeably the moment they touched, as though it was a knee jerk reaction he couldn’t quite control. He also appeared to have trouble holding anyone’s gaze for more than a second at a time, and for some reason that intrigued Hunter terribly.

Looking back on it now, that should’ve been the first sign there was something wrong with him. 

The following year, when Harrison offered him his second award, the man was accompanied by his pregnant wife. Hunter tried to ignore her when Harrison shook his hand, still warm, if a little stiff, but it was hard to ignore the way he visibly relaxed when she gently touched his elbow and smiled her small smile, as if she was his whole world in that moment, his haven, his retreat…

In some primal corner of his pubescent brain, jealously reared its ugly head. But at the same time he felt oddly guilty, because he couldn’t help but wonder if the stories were true, that Harrison had really suffered the way everyone said he did when he was a prisoner during the war. If so, Hunter reasoned the man deserved someone that made him feel as comfortable as she obviously did, even if that person couldn’t be him, some dumb teenager with a dead mother and a convicted murderer for a father.

So Hunter smiled and thanked him and put that money to good use when he graduated from high school. Having jumped from one foster home to another had made him something of a recluse, but he studied hard and finished his degree, and soon he became his own man. He never did apply to work for S.T.A.R. Labs though, because he preferred to work in the privacy of his own little laboratory, deep underground, where no one could hear the screams…

He still admired Harrison Wells from afar. Kept tabs on him in the news. Even went on a tour of his facility once, in the hopes that he could catch a glimpse of the man. But then he slowly spiraled out of control and got sloppy in his work, and very soon he was being escorted to the asylum to fulfill a life sentence in the bastard-cousin of the electric chair.

Then fate smiled upon him and gave him the powers of a _god_ —by Harrison Wells own hands no less, and if that wasn’t the universe’s way of telling him their destines were entwined, he didn’t know what else it could be.

~*~8~*~

Like all of Hunter’s other playthings, Harrison got a visit from him in the dead of night.

It was nearing one o’clock in the morning, and the man was still at S.T.A.R. Labs, sitting alone in his office at his little work bench, fiddling with some sort of handheld device as the news ran mutely on the television screen behind him. He barely seemed to notice the gentle breeze that mildly disturbed the papers on his desk across the room or that there was a dark figure suddenly standing in the threshold to his office—not until Hunter cleared his throat and startled the man from his reverie.

Harrison was on his feet in an instant, scowling at the door—but almost immediately he relaxed his stance and tilted his head a little to one side, giving Hunter a curious look before saying, “Jay Garrick?”

Hunter’s breath caught in his throat.

He had decked himself out in his father’s old uniform in the hopes of asking for Harrison’s help as _the Flash_. He hadn’t, however, taken into consideration the fact that Jay and Harrison might already know one another. If that was the case, then he’d have no hope in hell of fooling Harrison now...

Hunter was trying—and failing—not to panic, but the palms of his hands were already starting to sweat inside his gloves and he was having trouble forming a coherent thought. If Harrison told Jay about tonight, what would happen? Would Jay cotton on to the fact that his twin was alive and well? If not him, then surely Harrison would realize something was amiss, and then, perhaps, he would demand who Hunter was and why he had shown up tonight. And Hunter couldn’t afford that, he _really_ couldn’t, no more than he could afford to let Harrison go because…because…

 _God_ …he didn’t want to have to kill his childhood idol. He could just grab him and run, of course. Lock him up and threaten to kill him if he didn’t cooperate. Maybe roughen him up a little if he didn’t comply. Maybe bully him into bed, too, because hadn’t that always been a lifelong dream of his? He’d had a hard on for this man since before he was interested in other kids his age, and now he could finally have him all to himself, whenever he wanted, however many times he wanted, until either of them was dead.

Slowly then he began to relax. He had a new plan now, pathetic as it was. At least it was one he knew was easy to execute, so he smiled and took a step forward, wondering how long it would take Harrison to figure out something was wrong and what he would do once he realized this wasn’t the _real_ Jay Garrick.

Then the man completely side blinded him by saying, “I apologize.”

Curious, Hunter stopped and asked, “What for?”

“You looked confused. I guess I forgot that we’ve never been formally introduced.” Harrison turned to deposit his little gadget on his workbench and then moved forward to greet Hunter, hand outstretched. “I saw your keynote speech in Seattle a few months ago. I wanted to speak with you afterward, but you disappeared. I suppose now I understand why…”

Hunter took Harry’s proffered hand as the man sized him up. At first he felt relieved, because obviously his original plan could still pan out, but almost immediately afterwards disappointed, because as cheap plan B had been, it wasn’t such a bad thing either. He could be patient though. Let Harrison help him first and then do whatever the hell he wanted with the man.

After all, there was nothing stopping Hunter from having his cake and eating it too.

So he brightened his smile and gave the man a firm shake. Harrison didn’t stiffen up like he did once upon a time, but he still broke their shared gaze, eyes darting down and away to focus on Hunter’s chest until his hand slipped free. Subtle as this reaction was, Harrison still evidently didn’t enjoy any kind of prolonged contact.

Interesting.

“Most days, I have my work cut out for me,” Hunter replied.

“I don’t doubt that.” Taking a step back, Harrison gestured to the long couch adjacent to his workbench. Hunter took a seat there, leaning forward to brace his elbows against his knees, hands clasped loosely together in front of him. Harrison returned to his stool. “So—to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

“Care to guess?” Hunter asked, humour bleeding out before he could stop himself. This was supposed to be a serious business, but he was honestly struggling to keep a straight face after his small panic attack. Harrison had no idea how close he had come to living in absolute hell.

“I’m assuming this has something to do with Zoom?”

Hunter was pleasantly surprised by Harrison’s answer. “Why would you say that?”

“Of all the known metahumans in Central City, he’s the only one that hasn’t been caught even once yet. He’s also killed more people than any of the others combined. If that isn’t cause enough for concern, I don’t know what is.”

Slowly, Hunter nodded. “So, you’ve already put a lot of thought into this?”

“I have a few ideas…”

It was a little worrisome that Harrison was already in the mindset to develop a weapon against ‘Zoom’, but he tried not to let that show. After all, as long as he knew what Harrison was up to, he could always easily take advantage of the situation. “Before we discuss anything, I would like to know if you’ve told anyone else about your plans.”

“No one, as of yet,” the man admitted, frowning down at his hands in consideration. “I don’t usually approach the police until I have a working model. Although, I _was_ going to ask them to help me get into contact with you, because you are, for all intents and purposes, the perfect test subject…”

Evidently, Hunter got a hold of Harrison not a moment too soon.

“I don’t think you should tell them anything,” Hunter replied, still trying not to let his nerves show. His hands were getting sweaty again. “I have reason to believe Zoom’s been keeping tabs on them. If he discovers you’re developing a weapon, it would put your life in danger.”

Harrison laughed.

Hunter blinked in surprise.

Fighting back the smile on his face, Harrison cleared his throat and said. “I’m sorry. Zoom would hardly be the first metahuman to threaten my life. Having said that…” Turning sideways in his seat, he picked up his little gadget and started fiddling with again. “I agree. We should keep this between ourselves. For now, at least. The fewer people we involve, the safer they’ll be.”

Hunter grinned.

Harrison was too focused on his little knick-knack to notice.

~*~8~*~

“…Is that a sedative?”

A week after his first visit, Harrison finally called him up using the cell phone number Hunter gave him. And the man had certainly been busy in that time. When Hunter arrived that night, Harrison immediately switched out the feed on his office’s television screen to show two images, one of which was the structural formula for some kind of molecule, and one which looked like the blueprints for a nanite. 

“We can do this one of two ways,” Harrison began, gesturing to the image on the top. “Given Zoom’s speed, I imagine his metabolism would probably burn through any chemical agent in a matter of seconds. _This_ compound, however, is only activated after it’s been cleaved, creating a smaller polar metabolite that’s not readily cleared from the body. It would therefore require a little work, since I’m assuming you want to capture Zoom alive, but the finished product could be _very_ effective…”

Hunter nodded slowly. He wouldn’t actually mind poisoning Jay Garrick, but since someone might use this compound on _him_ one day, he didn’t want to leave anything to chance. “He deserves the right to stand trial, just like everyone else.”

Harrison shrugged. Hunter got a sudden thrill out of seeing this little glimpse of Harrison’s _laissez-faire_ attitude toward the idea of a vigilante handing out a death sentence. Which actually a little sense, considering Harrison had probably killed a number of people himself during the war.

It looked as though Hunter wasn’t the only one treading water in the darkness.

“Fair enough,” Harrison sighed. “Our other option is the nanite S.T.A.R. Labs is currently developing with Palmer Tech. It would also take some tweaking, but I could design it to release a low level frequency capable of disrupting Zoom’s ability to vibrate. Essentially, it would slow him down, although only marginally.” Scratching his neck, Harrison looked mildly agitated. “Now, Palmer Tech wants to use the nanites for surgical purposes, so obviously it’s designed to be cleared from a person’s system fairly quickly. To be honest, I don’t know how long that would take Zoom. Could be a matter of minutes, which is why I would need to test the nanites on you first.”

This wasn’t necessarily the route Hunter _wanted_ to take, considering that neither one of Harrison’s solutions would result in making him faster, but he had to concede to the fact that it would still give him a leg up against Garrick in battle. “How soon can you begin testing?”

“If we’re being optimistic here, in about two to three weeks,” Harrison admitted. “To make the necessary modifications, there’s certain equipment I would need to borrow from either Palmer Tech or Mercury Labs. Due to the number of legal hoops I would have to jump through in order to do _that_ , this little venture is obviously going to take a while. I’m sorry… I know Zoom’s really gunning for you now that you’ve proven yourself to be a formidable foe.”

Garrick _was_ a formidable foe, although Hunter would rather be caught dead than ever admit to that. The man had a knack for getting out of sticky situations.

Hunter sighed. It wasn’t as though this delay was really going to hurt him. It just meant he would have to wait a while longer before he could wring his hands around his brother’s scrawny throat.

“All things in good time, I suppose.” Slipping off his father’s helmet, Hunter began flipping it slowly over and over again between his hands. He _hated_ this uniform. It made him _itch_ … “Take however long you need to get the equipment. I’m not going anywhere. In the meantime, are there perhaps any _other_ solutions you might be interested in pursuing…?”

Watching Hunter fiddle with his helmet from where he was leaning back against his desk, Harrison quirked an eyebrow. He somehow managed to pull off _‘relaxed but irritable’_ look like a pro. “Not at the moment…Why do you ask?”

Hunter shrugged. “I just think you’re only looking at this problem from one angle.”

Harrison smiled a little. Or grimaced. It was hard to tell whether the man was insulted by Hunter’s statement or merely amused by it, but he got his answer soon enough when Harrison said, “Making you faster would be a whole other ball game, Garrick.”

The corner of Garrick’s left eye twitched. It was barely noticeable, but even so…the oily sensation of having someone call him _that_ name stuck to his skin. “Why’s that?”

“I’m a physicist by trade,” Harrison replied. “Biochemistry is a nice hobby and all, but it’s by no means my forte. I thought my concerns with the sedative would’ve clued you into that.”

Harrison’s little attitude problem was amusing, to say the least, but Hunter knew better than to bait him. So long as the man was willing to cooperate with him, Hunter had to play nice. “Dr. Wells…you are, quite possibly, the most intelligent man of our time. I realize there are risks associated with self-experimentation, but there’s no one I trust more than you to help me right now. Please, at least _consider_ it…?”

Harrison arched his eyebrow again. Hunter tried not to stare too hard. There was just something so devilishly alluring about the man. He wondered whether or not Harrison realized how attractive he was. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Garrick…so I suppose you’re lucky I’ve already taken that into consideration. It will certainly require more time than developing the nanites, but there’s nothing stopping me from working on both at once.”

He rewarded Harrison with one of his most boyish grins.

“Thank you,” he said softly. Slowly then, he replaced he helmet on his head. “I would truly appreciate that.”

“I’m not making any promises though.” the man clarified, looking away as he crossed his arms.  It was odd seeing him shut down himself so suddenly. “But believe me when I say I’ll do everything in my power to help you.”

“I know that.”

“Well, then…” Harrison pushed himself off his desk. “If you’d please excuse me, I have work to do. I’ll give you a call once I have something to show you.”

Hunter knew that was his cue to leave, but he lingered a moment longer than strictly necessary by the door, eyes fixed on the long line of the man’s neck until Harrison glanced over his shoulder to see what the hold-up was.

Hunter tipped his hat to him, then vanished into the night, trying hard to banish Harrison’s subtle signs of discomfort from his mind.

He could’ve just imagined it anyway…

~*~8~*~

He ended up thinking about Harrison a lot in the following weeks.

Harrison hadn’t called him at all in that time, but Hunter figured that had more to do with the fact that the man hadn’t made much progress in his work rather a petty need to avoid Hunter. Hunter couldn’t even be sure _he_ was the true cause of Harrison’s discomfort the last time they’d met up. The man could’ve been bothered by any stray thought. There was just no way of telling until they saw each other again.

It was probably for the best though that they spent so long apart. Hunter had next to no self-control when it came to this sort of thing. He’d catch himself fantasizing every once in a while, conflicted over what it was he really wanted from Harrison and what he was willing to do in order to get it, waffling rapidly between the thought of seducing him and assaulting him in equal measure.

He wanted the man so badly, he physically _ached_.

He wanted to lay him out on his office couch and slowly peel of his clothes, grazing his teeth across the corner of his jaw and down his throat in a wordless threat to _bite_. He wanted to rock into him nice and slow, to be welcomed into that warmth and to lose himself there, hypnotized by the heat and the motion and the sensation of someone running their hands down his back. Lazy sex was sometimes the best sex. Heightened the sensation of every touch. Made the good feelings last. _God_ …he could fuck for hours like that, just dangle his partner over the edge before drawing them slowly back in again, keep them desperate until they were both ready to take the plunge…

But he also wanted to drag Harrison down somewhere dark and quiet, to stripe him bare and watch the light die in his eyes as he recognized the bitter betrayal for what it really was. Hunter wanted it hard and fast and demanding. He wanted pain and confusion, to feel the man’s body seize up around him as he forced his way in. Penetration was all about power, after all, and Hunter was a glutton for that. Heaven help him if it was Harrison’s first time. Hunter could make a man hard despite the pain, could make him question his own desires. He’d just pin him down and let Harrison claw away at him until exhaustion won him out, mind drifting somewhere safe. Hunter would let him go for a moment and then shock him back to the here and now with something tender. Maybe lean down and kiss him, nice and gentle, until the man came _screaming_ back to reality—

“I see you took my advice.”

Hunter didn’t like surprise visits, least of all when he was tearing out the throat of some gumshoe detective in the alleyway behind a dingy Southside bar, but he was still wound up from thinking about Harrison, and since he had Reverb to thank for his current good feelings, he was willing to tolerate the kid’s antics for now.

Hunter dropped the still warm body of his latest victim to the ground and took a deep breath. It was colder than usual outside tonight.

They were nearing the end of summer.

Removing his goggles, Reverb took one look at the corpse and smiled. “Oh man, you’ve got it _bad_ , don’t you? Well…if you’re patient _and_ play your cards right, I have it on good authority you’ll be getting some from the good doctor before too long.”

Normally, Hunter didn’t give a damn what his backward brethren thought, but the nature of Reverb’s powers gave him reason to pause. Eventually he asked, _“What makes you say that?”_

“There’s no way of knowing for sure. The future has always been kind of hazy for me, but I recently got a clear enough image of you getting horizontal with Harrison Wells.” Reverb winked at him. “Congratulations, my friend. You’re not the only one in Central City who’d kill to sleep with that man.”

If Reverb knew he was the one ‘getting horizontal’ with Harrison, then that meant he obviously knew what Hunter looked like under his mask. Needless to say, Hunter was none too enthused with that idea, but he supposed there was no way of helping it.

He’d get a chance to kill this stupid boy someday.

 _“What do you want?”_ Zoom growled, stepping over the body to approach his wayward ally.

Reverb didn’t look worried though. Just smiled and said, “Well, you see, there’s this _girl_ … _Total_ bombshell. And brilliant to boot. Could be a real asset in helping us against the other vigilantes that will inevitably flood here once you put the Flash out of his misery.”

_“And?”_

“Thanks to the dark energies that leaked from the particle accelerator, she’s one freak lab accident away from becoming a literal snow queen. She just needs someone to give her a little _push_ …”

Hunter tilted his head to one side in exasperation. No matter what he thought though, Reverb was speaking the truth about the potential influx of other heroes once Garrick was out of commission. Hunter could handle Garrick, no problem, but he wasn’t so sure about some of the other weirdoes cropping up lately along the East Coast.

_“What’s her name?”_

Grinning, Reverb slipped his goggles back into place. “Caitlin Snow. Don’t worry about the details. Everything will happen exactly as it should. That’s the nature of fate, after all.”

Fate, huh?

Sounded like a cheap explanation, but Hunter wasn’t going to argue with him. If this woman was bound to become a metahuman soon, there was a good chance Reverb was right about Harrison as well.

The natural seduction of Harrison Wells therefore sounded very much like his best course of action.

~*~8~*~

Although that didn’t happen immediately.

Granted, Reverb told him to be ‘patient’, but knowing it was going to happen was almost as bad as _not_ knowing it was going to happen, because, after all, wouldn’t the act of ‘knowing’ possibly change the future in turn?

He tried not to think too hard about it.

At the very least, he now knew there was _some_ degree of mutual attraction between them. It was just a matter of making Harrison realize that too, preferably sooner rather than later. Then Hunter could make his move.

In the meantime, he spent the majority of his time trying to kill his brother _without_ the aid of one of Harrison’s inventions. Not that it did him any good. Garrick was getting stronger. Slowly, but surely, which Hunter had to chalk up to the fact that Garrick had more practice in the field. After all, the man had battled, at some point or another, almost every other known metahuman in the Twin Cities.

On the nights that chasing Garrick was more grief than it was worth, Hunter stalked Harrison instead. Not _just_ to watch him, of course, because in all the excitement of finally getting to work with his childhood idol, Hunter had almost forgotten that Harrison himself was not a force to reckon with. He was a knowledgeable man that was quick on his feet and who had developed almost all of the anti-metahuman weapons currently in possession of both the KCPD and CCPD. If he ever clued in to what Hunter was doing behind the scenes, there was a very real chance he could turn on Hunter and succeed.

Following Harrison therefore became something of a character study. Just a little something to see what made him tick. And number one on that list was Jesse Wells, his daughter, who had recently started college and moved away from home. She still visited him though roughly twice a week, either for dinner at his rather spacious, if somewhat secluded, house on the outskirts of Central City, or for lunch in his office. And they talked about fairly menial things, like movies or sports or the most recent revelations in science, simple things that had no real importance to Hunter now whatsoever.

Slowly though he began to realize that Harrison Wells was not quite the man the media made him out to be. While he was an exciting figure to watch behind the podium, selling his science with a mischievous grin and a most charming gleam in his eye, he was silent and reserved once the cameras were off. He spoke very little in front of other people and kept mostly to himself, but because he was kind to his staff, they seemed willing enough to forgive him for his eremitic behaviour. He also often had a faraway look in his eyes, as though he had discovered something fascinating, yet indescribable, burdened by a secret he couldn’t safely share—and that _very much_ endeared Harry to him, if for no other reason than he loved a troubled soul.

Because troubled souls were often oh so _very_ lonely.

As was evidenced during their next meeting, almost a month following their last.

“Mercury Labs couldn’t spare their equipment,” Harrison explained after Hunter slid into the room, sparks dancing off his body, a gust of wind ruffling Harrison’s hair. Throwing Hunter a look of mild irritation, Harrison slowly began collecting the files that had been blown off his desk. “And Palmer Tech took longer than usual getting theirs to me because it had been damaged during a recent break-in. Please—” He gestured vaguely to his workbench, “—have a seat.”

Obediently, Hunter dropped down into a chair. Then he took the figurative salad bowl off his head and tossed it onto the desk, followed shortly by his gloves. He began rolling up the sleeve on his left arm as Harrison picked up his injection gun.

Hunter admired the man quietly for a moment. Harrison was entirely focused on his work, picking up a small screwdriver to calibrate the injector, brow gently furrowed in concentration. He stood no more than a foot away from Hunter, leaning into his workbench with his right hip, a pose that did well to show off the long, lean stretch of his body.

He looked pretty good for a man his age, being what Hunter assumed was somewhere in his late forties. Not weak or crippled or stumbling through an alcohol fueled haze—that was what had happened to most of the other veterans, the ones who had seen the worst of the war and couldn’t cope now with everyday life.

Harrison, on the other hand, obviously took better care of himself.

“No offense, but your stare is a little unnerving,” Harrison said quietly, eyes still focused on his work.

“I’m sorry,” Hunter said immediately, not realizing he was being observed in turn.

Harrison’s eyes flickered briefly up to Hunter’s face before focusing his gaze on his gadget again. “Don’t be. I’m just wondering what’s on your mind.”

“You.”

Harrison’s stared up at him again. This time, he didn’t look away.

Hunter swallowed hard. “My father was a soldier. I guess…I was just marveling at the fact that you’ve obviously taken better care of yourself than he did.”

Harrison shrugged. “War scars everyone differently. My wife helped me recover from its most immediate effects. And when she died, the effort of becoming a good father for my daughter carried me through the worst of times when the darkness wanted to come creeping back in.”

“Do you still feel it?” Hunter asked, intrigued by the idea that the _same_ darkness that was forever bubbling just beneath the surface of his soul could be simmering somewhere inside this brilliant man as well. “Are you still fighting the good fight?”

If Hunter hadn’t been staring at the man so intently, he would’ve missed the way Harrison’s eyes narrowed marginally. “Tell me again why we’re having this discussion?”

“I meant no offense,” Hunter replied quickly. The last thing he wanted to do was scare the man. “I’ve seen some truly horrific things since becoming a hero, and there are days when I don’t feel like I’m as a good a man as I could be. I was just wondering how someone like you, who’s obviously experienced far worse, manages to hold it all in.”

Harrison shrugged, finally dropping the screwdriver onto his desk before grabbing a small vial and loading it into his gun. “I still have bad days. In fact, the war left me with a shadow I don’t think I’ll ever be able to shake, but…find someone who brings you joy in life, Garrick, and just focus on them. Like I’ve already told you, my wife did that for me. I still miss her with every fibre of my being, but I’m not about to let all the hard work she put into helping me go to waste.”

“She’s a hero in her own right then, huh?” Hunter murmured. “And what would you advise a man to do if he can’t find someone for himself?”

“There’s someone for everyone,” Harrison argued.

“What, even for someone in _my_ profession?”

“I see…” Harrison licked his lips. “Exactly how many people know about you and your powers?”

Hunter smiled sadly. “Just you.”

Clearly shocked by that admission, Harrison adjusted his glasses up and cleared his throat. “That’s…I’m sorry.”

Hunter shrugged. “Don’t be. It’s kind of nice finally having some to talk to. Now…” He nodded at the injector. “Are we ready?”

Nodding himself, Harrison leaned forward, taking Hunter’s wrist into one hand as he pressed the injector against his bared arm with the other. Then he pulled the trigger.

Hunter flinched from the sharp bite of the needle, but it was in and out in less than a second. For a moment though his entire arm went numb, until he balled his hand into a fist and then slowly extended his fingers  

Harrison watched him carefully for a second before dropping the injector onto his bench and reaching over for a small touch pad computer. Hunter couldn’t see what he was typing, but eventually Harrison looked up at him and said, “I need you to vibrate your other arm. I’m going run the nanites through a range of frequencies to see which one works best. Don’t stop until I tell you.”

Hunter smiled and did just that, arm softly humming as Harrison fiddled with his computer. Two minutes into the test, Hunter felt the limb weaken and slow, the subtle buzz suddenly deepening. It slowed even more the next minute before creeping back up to its regular higher-pitched hum.

Harrison huffed irritably and changed something on the settings. Hunter’s arm slowed down again, but only for a few seconds.

“It’ll need some work, but at least the idea isn’t a complete bust,” the man sighed. “You can stop now. I have all the data I need.”

“What’s wrong?” Hunter ask, bringing his arm to a rest.

“Technically, it _is_ slowing you down, but you’re still filtering the nanites from your bloodstream faster than the average man. If you try them on Zoom, they might work all of five seconds before he returns to his normal speed.” Harrison pursed his lips. “I’m not sure how helpful that would be for you.”

Well, that all depended on the nature of their battle. Five seconds could be just what the doctor ordered to put Garrick out of his misery. But his brother was a smart man. Unless the nanites slowed him down completely—which they _hadn’t_ for Hunter—Garrick would probably figure out a way to survive a measly five seconds with reduced speed.

“I could try a larger dose of nanites, but I don’t think they’ll pin him down for much longer.” Rubbing his brow in agitation, Harrison replaced his touch pad down on the bench and wandered across the room to his desk. Logging onto his main computer, he then said, “There are other modifications I could make to the nanites, but it’ll take a while. In the meantime, I think Velocity might be our best course of action.”

“Velocity?” Hunter asked, confused. He rolled down the sleeve of his father’s uniform and then snatched both the gloves and the ridiculous helmet off the bench before joining Harrison at his desk.

“A theoretical fuel source to make _you_ faster,” Harrison replied, smiling faintly. There was a gleam in his eyes that excited Hunter in more ways than one. “Drop by again sometime next week, if you get the chance. I should have a working sample for you then.”

“You’re actually developing a serum?” Mystified, Hunter couldn’t help but return his smile.

“Like I said earlier, I’m not a biochemist by trade, so I know it’ll be a while yet before I can get the formula right, but…yeah, I’m developing a serum.”

Hunter could’ve kissed him.

“Anyhow—returning now to the business of the _nanites_ …” Something that sounded an awful lot like a printer went off under Harrison’s desk and he leaned over to deal with it. Sitting upright again, he whipped out a single piece of paper, which he then handed to Hunter. “Drink plenty of water and then head over to any health clinic in Central City tonight. Just give them this form and tell them you need to send your urine to S.T.A.R. Labs. They’ll walk you through the rest.”

Mind reeling, Hunter gave a nervous laugh and said, “I’m sorry—you want me to do _what_ now?”

“Urinate,” Harrison replied without skipping a beat. “In a cup. At a health facility…The nanites were designed to be reusable, you know. They’re pretty expensive. I would like to have them back, if you don’t mind.”

Hunter laughed again, although this time he was genuinely amused. “Fair enough.”

“And try not to do anything that would cause you to sweat excessively before then. You can lose them that way too.”

“So no sex, huh?” he joked.

Harrison blinked at him. For half a second, Hunter wondered if he’d overstepped some kind of boundary with that little quip, but then Harrison frowned and said, “That makes absolutely no sense…You never sweat when you run in here. Why would you sweat during sex?”

“I occasionally sweat when I’m not tapped into my powers,” he explained. “I’m just assuming that, like any other regular strenuous activity, I would probably sweat during sex too.”

“Oh,” Harrison replied. Then he frowned again. “What do you mean by _‘_ assuming _’_?”

Feeling mildly uncomfortable with the odd turn in their conversation—although that was _entirely_ his own fault—Hunter scratched the back of his neck and said, “Like I said earlier, I don’t exactly… _have_ someone right now. Haven’t been with anyone in a long time, actually.”

To be completely honest, he hadn’t had sex in almost three years.

Part of that was due to the fact that he’d been locked up in a mental institution. Part of that was because he was too busy trying to kill Jay Garrick to focus on much of anything else in his life.

It was an obsession that occupied almost all of his waking hours, _truly_.

“I apologize for prying,” Harrison replied sincerely.

“Why? It’s an important question, considering there’s literally no one in this world who understands how exactly these powers work, myself included.”

“We’ll have to chat about it someday,” Harrison offered, looking more than a little intrigued. “Presuming you have the time, of course. I understand how busy you are.”

“Absolutely.” Maybe he was being hasty here, but this was as good an opportunity to get closer to the man as he’d ever get, and he wasn’t about to pass it up. “Speaking of which…I realize you haven’t asked for any form compensation for all the work you’ve done already, so maybe you’ll let me take you out for dinner? As a thank you. Perhaps after we give ‘Velocity’ its first test run?”

“At—” Harrison glanced down at his wristwatch. “—nearly one o’clock in the morning?” Considering that he only ever visited Harrison in the dead of night, he could understand the bizarre look Harrison was giving him, but then the man shook his head in obvious amusement and said, “I might know a place.”

“Excellent.” Glancing down at the form, Hunter folded it in half and cleared his throat. “I’ll go deal with this then. Have a good night, Wells.”

“Good night, Garrick,” he returned.

Replacing the helmet on his head, Hunter smiled and disappeared, wondering if he’d fulfill Reverb’s vision before the end of next week.

He wouldn’t.

~*~8~*~

Not for a lack of trying, though.

He called Harrison up the following Wednesday and asked if they would be able to try Velocity out that night. _‘Tomorrow,’_ Harrison told him instead. He was still waiting for the results on a test and had personal business to attend that evening, so he was incredibly sorry, but tonight just wouldn’t work.

And honestly, Hunter didn’t mind. A day wasn’t so bad, considering how quickly Harrison worked on his own. They were ahead of schedule anyway, so far as he could tell.

So, Hunter spent the night antagonizing his twin. Chased him halfway across the city to one of the older power plants on the outskirts of Keystone City, where he then promptly lost him.

He couldn’t understand why the man would lure him all the way out there, if for no other reason than to distract Hunter for a short while from hurting anyone else, so he checked the place from top to bottom and then, exasperated, decided that he had better things to do that night than eat his brother’s dust.

He was only mildly surprised to find Reverb standing by the main gate to power plant just as he was on his way out.

“Before you say anything at _all_ —” the boy immediately said, holding up a finger for silence. “—you might want to head down to the bar on the corner of 152nd and 34th Street. Snazzy place. Cheap too.” Slowly then, he smiled. “You’re welcome.”

…

Hunter wasn’t sure he wanted to _ask_.

When no response from Hunter was forthcoming, Reverb sighed and said, “Just remember our deal about Caitlin Snow, okay? You help me with the Snow Queen and I’ll keep an eye on your doctor.”

Realization dawning on him, Hunter gave him the barest of nods before heading back into the city.

He made a quick stop at his apartment to throw his regular clothes over his suit and then returned to the streets, moving on next to the little bar the boy had told him about. It was pretty snazzy, if a little darker than most other establishments. Surprisingly quiet too. There was a jazz singer tucked into one corner of the room, crooning softly into her mic as the patrons murmured silently amongst themselves. The sound was quite hypnotic.

If he had to describe the place in one word, he was say it was all very…sedate. But in a pleasant way. The patrons looked well-kept, as though these were simply busy people unwinding from the day; they weren’t terribly burdened by their lives, but rather looked as though they simply needed a momentary escape.

Hunter tried not to draw too much attention to himself as he scanned the room. It took him a second, but eventually he caught sight of what Reverb was trying to warn him about.

Harrison was sitting in a small booth at the far back of the room, one leg loosely crossed over the other, looking mildly troubled as he paid close attention to what the man sitting directly across from him was saying. The gentleman in question was maybe as old as Harrison, with crewcut, blond hair and a strong build. Hunter would bet anything the man was a soldier, perhaps even someone Harrison had fought with during the war, because the side of his neck was covered in scars that were noticeable from all the way across the room. The back of his right hand was also puckered and pink, as though it had once been severely burned.

Hunter took a seat at the bar and ordered himself a drink.

He sat there alone like that for almost half an hour, watching the two men in complete silence. The gentlemen talked for the most part while Harrison listened, looking a little sad almost all throughout the conversation until he reached out at one point and touched the back of his friend’s hand, fingers ghosting over the ruined skin.

And just about when Harrison moved to retract his hand, his friend reached out to grab it, thumb idly stroking Harrison’s knuckles, a gesture that was at once intimately familiar.

Hunter hadn’t realized that the darkness had been creeping up over the border of his vision until the man grinned and Harrison smiled in return, and by then his ire was so potent he could practically taste the blood in his mouth.

He had, perhaps irrationally, assumed that Harrison would be his and his alone.

He knew for a fact that the man would help him increase his speed, and, in doing so, would allow him to kill Jay Garrick once and for all. So he had simply assumed that the man’s intellect was a faithful tool, one he could potentially use long after Garrick was dead, depending on what leverage he could utilize against the man. Likewise, he had also assumed that sometime between now and whenever Hunter’s reign on this earth ended, the man’s sex would be exclusively his as well, either by coercion or choice. Hunter had never considered that there would be an interloper, someone to occupy Harrison’s mind and body in a way Hunter had not yet achieved. And that…well, _that_ just wouldn’t do.

So he ordered another drink, not because alcohol had any effect on him, but because the way it burned the back of his throat helped to keep him focused as he waited for Harrison and his companion to leave. When they finally waved down a waitress to pay their tab, Hunter dropped a couple of bills on the countertop beside his empty glass and headed out the door, sprinting across the street to watch what transpired next from afar.

The two men wandered outside together shortly afterwards, but there was a noticeable distance between them. They stopped to chat again though, at which point the man made some kind of joke that earned him another smile from Harrison. Then, looking a little forlorn, the stranger mouthed _‘Good night’_ and turned away.

For a moment, Hunter wondered if maybe he’d misinterpreted the situation completely, that perhaps these were merely two friends catching up on old times—but then Harrison called out for his companion to wait as he rummaged in his coat pockets for something. He soon produced what looked like a crumpled receipt from one pocket and a pen from the other, and used these to scribble out a note, which he then handed to the man before walking briskly in the opposite direction.

The man didn’t move at first. In fact, he watched Harrison for a good long time before glancing down at the note in his hand. Whatever it was that was written there, it put a smile on his face, one that only widened as he wandered around the corner to god-knows-where.

Hunter grit his teeth together and took a step back, looking for an alleyway to duck into so he could shrug off his civilian clothes discreetly.

Once he was properly attired, he caught up to the mysterious man, who had only made it about a block and a half to where he’d parked his motorcycle. Hunter found him straddling the bike, the piece of paper still open in his hand, as though he was trying to commend whatever was written there to memory.

Hunter could pretty much guess what that was.

He grabbed the man before he was aware anyone was watching him and hauled him into the nearest alleyway, where he curled one hand around his throat to pin him up against the wall. He tore the note out of the man’s hand with the other.

At a glance, his suspicions were confirmed.

“What are you?” The man asked faintly, gasping for breath.

Hunter ignored the man’s question in favour of asking of his own: _“How do you know Harrison Wells?”_

The man’s eyes widened marginally. Choking, he said, “H-harry?”

Hunter dug his claws deeper into the tender flesh of the man’s throat.

“The _war_!” he gasped, now trying to pry Hunter’s fingers free, eyes screw shut in pain.

 _“And…”_ Hunter hissed.

Confused, he said, “W-we’re old friends.”

Hunter pulled him forward slightly—then quickly slammed him back into the brick wall. The man _knew_ what he was talking about. _“ **And**?”_

Hopelessly, he just stared at Hunter, as though honestly waiting for some kind of clue. Then he caught sight of the crumpled piece of paper in Hunter’s hand and whimpered, “ _Please_ , don’t hurt him…”

_“Why not?”_

“He’s a good man.”

He had to give the guy credit for begging for somebody else’s life.

Impatient though, Hunter leaned in closer and asked, _“Do you love him?”_

The man went terribly still for a moment, then, despite the pain he was undoubtedly in, relaxed into Hunter’s grip, defeated. “Yes,” he said faintly. “ _Please_ …He’s not a threat to you.”

The poor fool had no idea how wrong he was.

Despite the fact that Jay Garrick was the one who toed off against the criminal element of the Twin Cities personally, Harrison was the one with both the power and the know-how to properly outfit humanity with the tools they needed to fight for themselves, much in the same way he had produced weapons for the war. Harry was the one who was capable of lifting a mere insect, scurrying constantly for its life, up to the status of a god.

Of all the people in Central City, _Harrison_ was the one he had to keep under his thumb.

 _“Harrison Wells,”_ Hunter growled, his barely contained anger bubbling to the surface, _“is **mine**.”_

“No!” the man cried out, finally putting up a struggle. When Hunter released him abruptly, he almost fell, leaning back against the wall for support as he twisted his ankle. “He’s just—”

Hunter never gave him the chance to finish that sentence.

He reached forward suddenly and took the man’s head in both hands.

Then he gave it a good hard _twist_.

~*~8~*~

He disposed of both the body and the bike far downstream the Missouri River at one of his old stomping grounds. The police never found this one prior to his arrest, and, as such, he was confident no one would stumble across the body any time soon. He kept the man’s phone though and scrolled through the last few text messages he had exchanged with ‘Harry’ leading up to tonight’s little rendezvous. There was nothing very telling about them. Then again, Harrison was a remarkably private person. Phones could be stolen, after all. It could simply be he didn’t want anyone to know he had a lover.

Taking a moment to consider the best way to proceed, Hunter finally opted to send Harrison a text: ‘ _I’m sorry.’_

Harrison’s response was almost immediately. ‘ _Why?’_ was his first message, followed shortly by _‘Where are you?’_

‘ _En route to Starling.’_ Hunter smiled, thumb flying over the keys, ‘ _I’m so sorry, Harry. I just can’t do this with you right now.’_

Predictably, Harrison then tried to call him.

Hunter let it ring all the way through. Twice.

Harrison didn’t bother leaving a message.

Satisfied, Hunter dropped the cell phone on top of the soft, moist ground and took off for the city. There was a part of him that wanted to drop by Harrison’s place now and see how he was holding up after this tragic turn in his evening plans, but another part of him was all too aware of the fact that he wouldn’t be satisfied with just spying on the man. The darkness was singing in him tonight, its many voices still ringing in his ears. It drove him to kill this nameless interloper and it wanted to do horribly exquisite things to Harrison, to right all the wrongs, to teach the man a lesson for being such a tease…

But he was the one in control right now, not the darkness, and there was nothing to gain from terrorizing Harrison any further. So he went directly home instead and tried to wind down for the night, and if he played out what he wanted to do to Harrison Wells in his mind instead, there was nobody that could stop him.

~*~8~*~

Predictably, Harrison was in a foul mood Thursday evening.

He said very little and avoided almost all eye contact with Hunter as he readied a briefcase containing his injector gun and few small vials, muttering something about Ferris Air before walking briskly to his office door. Hunter mistakenly took that as a request for transportation and grabbed the man immediately, almost feeling ashamed by the cheap thrill he got out of snaking his arm around Harry’s waist before diving head first into the enigmatic stream of his powers.

He got the idea he must have misinterpreted that bit of information when they finally came to a standstill. Harrison scowled and looked as though he had a few choice words for him, but then vertigo finally set in and it took all his focus to instead stay upright as he wobbled precariously to one side. 

Hunter grinned and grabbed his arm, allowing the man to lean into him until he regained his balance. “Sorry. The first time can be a little disorienting.”

“A warning would’ve been nice,” Harrison muttered, taking a moment to straighten his glasses. “Although, honestly, this took considerably less time than public transit…”

“You don’t drive?” Hunter asked.

“I drive.” Kneeling down, Harrison laid his briefcase out on the ground and popped it open. He slotted one of small vial inside of it into his injector gun and then rose back to his feet. “But I helped design the light rail train system, so why not use it?”

Given how long Hunter had idolized the man, he already knew this, but he feigned a little surprise anyway.

Waving his other hand as though to dismiss the matter, Harrison glanced down across the empty runway, which would’ve been completely dark if not for the distant lights of Keystone City glittering on the horizon. The sky was also remarkably clear tonight, stars shining, the moon full, giving an almost ethereal quality to the glow of Harrison’s pale hands and face.

Hunter had the sudden overwhelming urge to kiss him.

Not hard either. Just a soft press of their lips, almost too quick for Harrison to react—but instead he nodded at the runway and said, “How do you want to do this?”

“You’re going to sprint to the end and back here couple of times so I can get an idea of your average speed. Then, I’m going to give you a dose of Velocity and time how long it takes you to do the same thing all over again. Any questions?”

“Sounds simple enough,” he replied, smirking.

Harrison obviously thought otherwise, because his expression hardened as he stared Hunter dead in the eye and said, “Just as a reminder, I’m _not_ a medical doctor. If anything happens to you, I’ll have to call an ambulance, which is why I chose a location close to a hospital. Granted, the compound should be non-lethal, but trying to calculate the right dose for you was something of a nightmare …”

Hunter wasn’t afraid. After all, there was no way he was going to fulfill Reverb’s little prophecy if he died out here tonight on this long, empty stretch of asphalt and concrete.

He had more faith in Reverb’s powers than he would ever openly admit.

“I trust you,” Hunter replied, giving the man a wink. “Just say the word.”

Somehow, Harrison managed to look beyond exasperated without moving any of his facial muscles. Then he raised his left hand so that he could see his wristwatch and said, “Go.”

Hunter took off like a light.

Ultimately, Harrison took five individuals recordings on his watch and then asked Hunter if he needed a moment to catch his breath. At the sight of Hunter’s wiry grin though, he muttered something under his breath and gestured with the gun to Hunter’s arm. “Roll up your sleeve.”

Hunter followed his instructions without complaint. The he said, “Smile. This is exciting.”

“You might be dead in a minute, so I don’t know about that.”

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” he reminded him. “And as far as deaths go, this should be relatively quick.”

“Who knows for sure?” Harrison argued as he pressed the injector against the crook of Hunter’s arm. “You might writhe on the ground in agony for a while first.”

“Such beautiful optimism,” he quipped. “We’ll have to discuss it over dinner tonight.” When Harrison’s eyes widened in realization, as though he had somehow managed to forget about their arrangement, Hunter shook his head and said, “Too late to cancel. Besides, you look like you need to unwind. Just shoot me up already and watch me go.”

Harrison sighed, irritated, but instead of disagreeing, he said, “If this doesn’t work out, I’m sorry… I think you’re something of a moron for wanting to defend this city, but I also think that happens to be what I admire the most about you.”

And with that, he pulled the trigger.

The pain gave him a nasty jolt, but it was over and done with before even he could blink. So he rolled down his sleeve and waited a moment, somewhat confused as to how long it would take for the serum to kick in.

Harrison watched him carefully, eyes shining in the dim light. “…Garrick?”

Suddenly, he felt it.

It was subtle at first—and honestly, it felt a little like heart burn, but slowly that unusual warmth spread outwards from his chest, up his throat and down his arms and legs. It was a good kind of warmth though, like slipping into a hot bath, soothing, _rejuvenating_ , like he could almost melt out of his own skin.

“Garrick?” Harrison repeated, voice edged with worry. “Are you—?”

Hunter smiled.

Harrison fell silent.

“Time me,” Hunter commanded, before he turned away and ran down the length of the runway.

He tapped the ground at the far end and then turned immediately back, moving so quickly he kicked dust up into Harrison’s eyes as he skidded to a halt. The man rubbed at them furiously and then blinked. “That was…” he squinted down at his watch. “Almost twice as fast as your average. How do you feel?”

“ _Amazing_ ,” he breathed, because it was the absolute truth. There was no better way to describe it.

“No pain?”

“None at all,” he said—then disappeared back down the runway. And he kept running like that, back and forth, until the warmth abated and he began to slow down again. Then he slide sluggishly next to Harrison and said. “It’s…wearing off now.”

“You’ve only been running for about five minutes,” Harrison replied. “Not as long as I was hoping, but it’s a start.”

“Are you _joking_?” Hunter snapped, suddenly closing in on Harrison. Shocked, Harrison stumbled back a step. “ _Thank you_.”

And with that, he hugged the man.

Harrison was completely stiff at first, obviously not expecting any physical sign of gratitude, but slowly he relaxed into the embrace, patting Hunter on the back in return as he said, “You’re welcome.”

“I’m sorry,” Hunter replied, clearing his throat as he took a small step back. “This boundless energy can be hard to control at times. I just have to let it out.”

“Well,” Harrison said, shrugging, “considering the sort of impulses Zoom must feel, I don’t think a compulsive hugger is the worst thing you could possibly be.”

Hunter choked out a laugh.

“In any case…I guess that’s it for now.” Kneeling down, Harrison flipped open his briefcase and shoved his injector back inside, pushing it firmly into its foam impression before closing the case again. “I don’t know how comfortable I feel about increasing the dose, but I’ll have something figured out for next week. Now that I’ve finally got the ball rolling, we should probably meet up more than once a month to iron out the issues.”

Hunter had no complaints about that.

“Perfect,” he replied. “Now, I need to run home and get a change of clothes, but where are we going tonight? I’m famished.”

Grinning, Harrison rose back to his feet. “I’m not surprised…It’s a place called _Opia_. It’s located just a block south of S.T.A.R. Labs, tucked into little alleyway on 172 nd St. If you get lost, just call me.”

“You don’t want a ride?” he asked as Harrison turned away.

Reaching into his coat pocket, Harrison whipped out a swipe card for the transit system and waved it over his shoulder. “I’m covered, thank you.”

Hunter stood there for a while, watching him walk away. Truth be told, he didn’t think Velocity was completely gone from his system yet.

Not with the way he still felt so warm and content…

Unlike anything he could ever remember feeling in a very long time.

~*~8~*~

He was beginning to get the vibe that Harrison liked dark, secluded places.

Not too unlike Hunter himself, actually.

Opia really was tucked away into an alleyway, the only indication that it existed being the small sign tacked to the railing of the stairs leading down into the establishment. It was spacious though and half full, which was something of a surprise given both the hour of the night and the fact that no one appeared to be having any alcohol.

Instead, people were eating and drinking at small tables, almost shoulder to shoulder with their companions, or tucked securely away into one of the alcoves along the wall, half obscured by sheer gray curtains.

Harrison was nowhere in sight yet, so Hunter settled into one of the said alcoves, glancing at the menu when the waitress wandered by to offer him one. The food was remarkably cheap, which shouldn’t have surprised him, although it made him wonder why someone with Harrison’s good fortune and prestige would want to frequent a place like this.

When Harrison showed up, he asked him just that.

“This was one of my favorite haunts when I was a student,” the other man replied as he slipped onto the circular bench beside Hunter. It was quiet and cozy, and Hunter could suddenly see a young Harrison Wells losing himself in his work here, undisturbed by anyone or anything. “I still come here when I need a little time to myself. The staff already know my order by heart.”

“Then I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

The corner of Harrison’s lip curled in amusement as he held up two fingers. Evidently, one of the waitresses had been keeping an eye on Harrison since he arrived, because she was already staring out across the room at him from the bar. With a nod, she disappeared into the back.

“Do you bring guests here often?” Hunter asked.

“No. Just my wife, when she was still alive, and occasionally now my daughter. She has better things to do with her time now, so usually it’s just me.”

“How’s she doing?” Hunter probed. “You said you had personal business to attend to yesterday. Is she alright?”

“Oh…that had nothing to do with my Jesse.” Fingers laced together over the table, Harrison leaned forward onto his elbows and looked down, grief subtle, but still very much apparent. “Thank you for asking.”

“But it was something important,” Hunter continued. “And it’s been bothering you all night. Don’t try to tell me otherwise.”

Harrison gave him an indecipherable look just then, as though he was weighing how much he felt comfortable sharing with Hunter. Eventually though, he averted his gaze again and said, “I had a visit from an old friend, one that I’ve been particularly worried about lately. He usually comes and goes as he pleases, but I thought he wanted to settle down for good this time. I was… wrong.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be,” Harrison muttered, staring intently at his hands. “He has a habit of getting into trouble, no matter what I say or do. If he isn’t careful, he’s going to wind up dead one of these days.”

Hunter licked his lips in an attempt to beat down the smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

He did so enjoy a little irony.

Trying to go for sympathetic, he said, “I’m sure he’ll be alright.”

“I certainly hope so…”

Harrison took the opportunity then to change the subject of their conversation, diving straight into an explanation of what he wanted to do with the nanites as they waited for their food. It would take him almost a month to make the necessary modifications, but he was confident he had a solution to their problem. For Velocity as well, although he was more uncertain in this area. Human physiology was not his expertise.

Soon enough, their food arrived. It was some kind of yellow curry. Hunter had never tasted anything quite like it before. Now that he thought about it though, he didn’t share many meals with anyone, so experimenting with different kind foods outside his comfort area had always been a one-man struggle. He was so accustomed to being alone, his life outside his alter ego had become rather stagnant.

They lulled into a comfortable silence as they ate, which Hunter was oddly grateful for. He had no problem listening to Harrison lecture, and he certainly had no problem carrying his half of the conversation purely on the back of lies, but there was something so inexplicably satisfying about occupying the same space as someone as calm and quiet as Harrison, it was hard to describe. Hunter was usually only ever this physically close to another human being when he was swooping in for the kill, yet here he was now, almost shoulder to shoulder with the object of his desire, and the man wasn’t paralyzed fear.

Hunter felt…

Oddly appeased.

And that feeling lasted the remainder of the evening as Hunter finally divulged to Harrison what he understood of his abilities. He told Harrison he obtained them when was electrocuted, although he said that this incident occurred in his lab rather than the asylum, and he described the way in which it always felt as though he was accessing a power source _outside_ his body. And sometimes, even, this power source almost felt like a living being…

“Do you have a name for it?” Harrison asked, eyes narrowed in curiosity.

“The Speed Force,” Hunter replied. And then he thought to himself, yes, that’s it…

The _Speed Force_ was the thing that was thriving on his darkness.

~*~8~*~

They continued this routine for almost a month.

Hunter met up with Harrison about twice every week to test the man’s experiments. Harrison could slow him down completely now with the nanites, but only for about five minutes at a time, and while they successfully interfered with Hunter’s ability to ‘vibrate’, his metabolism wasn’t hindered in the least. Therefore injuring Garrick beyond the norm still wasn’t possible.

Such a pity.

As for Velocity—Harrison would only concentrate the dose so much before Hunter felt like he was burning from the inside. The serum also maxed out at about 9 minutes, so Harrison was forced to start from square one. He then came up with ‘Velocity 2’.

Which did absolutely nothing.

Not that Hunter was complaining, because he still had Velocity 1 to fall back on. In fact, he liberated one of the many samples Harry had stashed away in his not-so-secret vault in the hallway just outside his office one night to test in battle against his brother.

The look on Jay’s face when he was outmaneuvered was priceless.

“What _are_ you?” his brother muttered, face bloody, wobbling on his feet. They were squaring off against one another on the main road beside Keystone Stadium, football fans flooding the sidewalk, but knowing well enough by now to keep their distance. Garrick’s right shoulder had been pulled out of its socket and Hunter was certain he’d broken at least a few of the man’s ribs.

Hunter, on the other hand, was completely unscathed.

He didn’t know what to say to that, but even if he did, he was suddenly aware of the noisome sensation of Velocity wearing off, shortly before he was hit with a wave of bone-deep fatigue.

Hunter wobbled a little himself.

Before Garrick noticed, he took off in the other direction, dismayed by this unexpected turn in events, though satisfied with the current state his brother was in. Now, at least, the man was truly terrified of him.

That was the last time he felt safe testing Velocity on the battlefield before Harrison deemed the serum ready, and so life continued as usual. He finally paid his dues to Reverb by tracking down Caitlin Snow—a young woman who had recently dropped out of med school, but who had obtained a Masters in bioengineering beforehand, which therefore allowed her to take on a job as a lab technician. She worked the night shift at Mercury Labs, moving samples from one incubator to the next and running simple tests. It was clear to both Hunter and her two coworkers that she despised her job, and so she was usually left to work on her own at the far back of the lab near the walk-in freezers.

Not knowing what exactly he was supposed to do with her, he waited until she needed to grab a sample from the -80ᵒC freezer one night before slamming the door shut behind her and bending the handle at an unusual angle. He watched her spin around through the small window on the door and then he disappeared, just as the emergency alarm went off.

He found out a few days later from Reverb that all he’d managed to do was give her a nasty head cold.

“But this is _good_ ,” Reverb assured him, smiling in that knowing way of his. “All she needed was a little shock to get her going. Give it a week and you’ll see what I mean.”

Hunter supposed that was true. Of the metahumans he had met so far, nearly all of them had been subjected to some kind of unusual stressor prior to obtaining their powers, one which also seemed to influence the nature of their abilities.

He was therefore _very_ interested to see what became of the lovely Miss Snow…

~*~8~*~

As per his agreement with Reverb to collect (and in some ways ‘police’) new metahumans, the boy kept Garrick out of the public’s eyes on the nights that Hunter wanted to be Harrison. It wouldn’t do, after all, to have news spread of the _Flash_ thwarting a midnight robbery when Harrison knew, for a fact, that the man he believed to be Jay Garrick was with him at the time.

It was difficult at first, because convincing any given metahuman to go toe-to-toe with the Flash somewhere secluded for no reason whatsoever really wasn’t anyone’s idea of a good time, but Reverb knew everyone’s darkest secrets and the lot of them were terrified of ‘Zoom’, so any protest was usually short lived. And for the most part, this plan of theirs worked remarkably well.

Until Geomancer came along.

Adam Fells had always been something of a loose cannon, but since he lived somewhere outside the Twin Cities, tracking him down at any given time was always a little tricky. Reverb had never shown any interest or concern in the man before, so Hunter ignored him for the most part—until he showed up one day when he and Harrison were testing Velocity 3.

 _This_ formula felt as though it could be the real deal. He had already passed the 9 minute mark running laps around the runway and he felt none of the familiar signs of fatigue. In fact, he felt as though he could run until the very end of eternity, so he skidded to a halt in front of Harrison and smiled, the little sparks of lightning flying off his shoulders evidence of how completely energized he still felt.

Harrison had become so accustomed to working with him by now, he didn’t wince when he was blasted by the gust of wind that always accompanied Hunter, carefully combed hair now tousled, dust speckling the front of his black dress pants. He had even taken to wearing goggles instead of his glasses lately, which he pushed up above his brow when Hunter approached him, grinned, and said, “That was a little over three times faster than your usual speed. Tired yet?”

“Not even close,” he replied. In fact, this was pure bliss.

He’d never felt so _alive_.

Hunter took a step closer, feeling warm and wonderful and wanting nothing more than to reach out and _touch_ Harrison. He looked almost too perfect to be real in that moment, so cold and pale in the moonlight, and unnaturally still…more like a statue than an actual human being.

Hunter needed to know Harrison was alive too.

The man narrowed his eyes at him, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“You need to smile more,” Hunter replied faintly. Harrison averted his gaze. “I mean it. You look good when you smile.”

“Look…I know what you’re getting at here and I—”

Harrison never got to finish that sentence.

Because just then, the ground shook so hard both he and Hunter were knocked clean off their feet.

Disoriented, it took Hunter a moment to collect himself. He straightened to his full height and then offered a hand to help Harrison up. “Are you hurt?”

“No, but—” He was interrupted by yet another wave, although this one weaker than the last. Hunter could’ve been wrong, but it felt a little as though it was coming from the south.

Sure enough, over top of the small empty shops lining the nearby road, Hunter could see the lights of Central City General Hospital just one block over flicker briefly before dying altogether.

“Geomancer?” Harrison breathed, surprised. Then he looked to Hunter expectantly, as though waiting for him to do or say something important.

It was not lost on Hunter that he was currently dressed as _the Flash_.

Nor was it lost on him that the _real_ Jay Garrick was currently occupied with Doctor Light in the old mill just outside Keystone City.

…

 _Fuck_.

“I’ll be right back,” he seethed.

He was going to break Adam’s neck once he got a hold of him.

“Velocity is still—” Harrison began, but already Hunter was off, diving headfirst into the empyreal stream of the Speed Force.

It somehow did wonders to calm him down as he darted over to the hospital, doing a quick lap around the building to look for Geomancer. He didn’t find the man out on the main street like he expected, but rather standing in the middle of the wide service road situated between the CC General and the National Cancer Institute beside it. People were already filing out of the hospital en mass—and immediately back-peddling or making a mad dash for the main road once they caught a sight of Geomancer.

“I love hospitals,” Adam drawled, gesturing to the staff and patients scrambling for their lives. “Not everyone can run.”

“Stand down,” Hunter demanded. He felt incredibly weird impersonating his brother on this kind of level. And more than just a little ridiculous.

Adam tilted his head quizzically to one side. “What…no witty one-liners? Someone’s not in the mood tonight.”

 _‘You have **no** idea,’_ he thought darkly to himself. Out loud, he said, “I’m only giving you _one_ chance, Adam. Now, get down on your knees and put your hands behind your head.”

Even with the goggles on, Hunter could read the look of utter disdain on the other man’s face. “You don’t think very highly of me, do you?”

“You’re right, I don’t.”

One of the nurses pushing an elderly gentleman past Hunter in a wheelchair tried to stifle her laughter.

Hunter couldn’t help but grin a little himself.

Adam, on the other hand, bared his teeth at them, like some feral thing preparing to strike.

Reaching the end of his patience with this man, Hunter decided to cut to the chase and took this opportunity to dart forward, leaping up off the ground when he was no more than a meter way. He curled his hand into a fist and raised it in the air, ready to crack a clear one across Geomancer’s face—but the man was obviously accustomed to Garrick’s sudden attacks, and already had his own fist raised, arm arching as though he knew _exactly_ where Hunter was going to strike him.

Hunter hated to think he and Garrick were _that much_ alike.

He hated it even less when Adam’s fist collided with his own.

Super strength and super speed made for quite the explosive match. Consequently, both men were thrown far apart, Hunter’s arm smarting like all unholy hell as he hit the ground and slid halfway down the service street. Geomancer landed in a similar fashion in the opposite direction and swore up a blue streak as he rolled around on the ground, cradling his arm against his chest.

Hunter didn’t know if he had broken his own arm, but the sharp flare of pain that radiated from his knuckles up to his shoulder was brief. It faded sooner than it normally would’ve, wrist popping pleasantly as he gently flexed it back and forth.

Velocity 3 was proving to be quite the wonder…

His amazement, however, was short-lived—part of the hospital wall beside him, from the ground floor up to the very fifth, began to crumble and fall. The floors themselves held, but there were people standing outside, staff still trying to move patients toward the main street.

It was obvious they were going to get crushed.

Hunter moved without thinking.

He grabbed the able-bodied people first, because he could deposit them out of the way without much care for their comfort. Moving the people in wheelchairs and the child patients took a little more effort on his part, but by the time he had grabbed the last child and tossed them to a nurse, everyone was safe and accounted for.

He had moved maybe thirty people in less than a second.

That…that had to be some kind of record.

Hunter returned to normal speed to the sound of people shouting, the ground shaking beneath his feet as the wall finally collapsed into the service street. Then, slowly, people began to clap…

Hunter had no idea what he was supposed to do now. He really wasn’t accustomed to people cheering for him.

He also had no idea why he couldn’t feel his body anymore.

He was completely numb, head to toe. Flexing his fingers didn’t give him any kind of sensation. Neither did touching the side of his face with his gloved hand.

“Flash?” one of the doctors asked, taking a step forward. “Are you alright?”

“I…” He licked his lips. He couldn’t feel _that_ either. “I can’t feel—”

Suddenly, there was a loud, resounding _crack_. Hunter looked up in time to see yet another segment of the wall collapsing, this time farther down the service street. Thankfully, no one was down at the end…except Geomancer.

Who was pretty much reduced to crawling at this point.

Hunter supposed he had no choice but to save the fool too.

Except…he couldn’t.

He literally made it only five feet before his powers abandoned him. The familiar warmth returned to his limbs for all of a second before the numbness returned in full force, and then he collapsed to his knees, watching with an odd sort of fascination as Adam screamed and the wall came crashing down upon him.

Hunter tried not to think about how happy that made him.

Then he promptly blacked out.

~*~8~*~

He came to lying flat on his back, roused by the sensation of something piercing the inside of his left arm.

When he opened his eyes, he found two doctors and a nurse hovering over him—and Harrison, with his injector in hand, switching out an empty vial for a new one, although this one was blue.

Hunter never knew the man had made any kind of antidote for his serum.

“Sir?” the nurse asked, leaning over Hunter’s head. “Sir, _please_ , don’t move—”

“ _Harry_ ,” he choked, grabbing Harrison by the wrist.

“Listen to the man,” Harrison snapped. “Don’t move. They’re going to look you over and—”

“ _No_ ,” he growled, suddenly feeling terribly claustrophobic. He really couldn’t stand to be around so many people all at once whenever he was vulnerable like this. It reminded him too much of his life at the orphanage. “I’m fine.”

“But—”

“ _Harry_ ,” he said firmly. One of the doctors gave Harrison a curious look, as though he felt he should’ve guessed that both the fastest man alive and the smartest would know each other on a first name basis. “Really…I’m fine.”

“Moron,” Harrison muttered, not once attempting to remove his arm from Hunter’s grip. Slowly, he glanced up, down the length of the service road, to where Adam Fells met his demise. “I’m sorry about Geomancer…”

“We’re going to move your friend to the other side of the hospital,” the older of the two doctors told Harrison. “If you could tell us what was in that vial, we would really appreciate it.”

Harrison turned to the woman. “Actually, it’s—”

Pushing everyone aside suddenly, Hunter climbed to his feet and bolted.

But not without Harrison.

Not knowing where else to go, he took the man to his small apartment in Keystone City. Then he released the man and watched him stumble back a step, disoriented from the trip.

Once he had his bearings, Harrison turned to Hunter and punched him square in the chest. “God- _fucking_ -damnit, Garrick!”

The punch didn’t really hurt, but Hunter found himself rubbing the spot anyway, somewhat amused by the other man’s outburst. Harrison was so mad, his hands were shaking.

“You should go back there!” Harrison snapped. “I have _no_ idea what Velocity did to you. They said you collapsed right after you told them you couldn’t feel anything. Are you—?”

“ _Harry_ ,” he said softly, pleading. Then, for the third and final time: “I’m _fine.._.”

The corner of Harrison’s jaw twitched. At first Hunter thought he had only managed to anger the man even more, but then Harrison said, just as softly, “What happened to Adam Fells wasn’t your fault...It was _mine_. You couldn’t perform your duty tonight because of me.”

“I’d beg to differ,” Hunter replied, slowly pulling off his gloves before tossing them onto the kitchen table to his left. His helmet followed shortly after. “I saved every one of those civilians tonight, and there’s no way I would’ve been able to do that at my normal speed. As for what happened to Adam…well, that’s entirely on Adam.”

Harrison licked his lips and frowned, like he wanted to argue his point further. “You—”

“ _No_ , Harry,” he said firmly, “It’s not your fault.” Then he closed the distance between them, took the Harrison’s face in both of his hands, and kissed him.

Harrison’s initial reaction was to jerk his head back, lifting his own hands to grab Hunter by the wrists, but Hunter didn’t relent, determined to find out once and for all if the attraction between them was mutual. He was rewarded for his perseverance a moment later when the other man finally relaxed, opening his mouth marginally to admit Hunter’s gently probing tongue.

And then, just as with everything else in life, Hunter dove right on in.

He tilted his head a little to one side to slot their mouths better together and silently rejoiced at the fact that all his hard work had finally paid off. And it was _perfect_ , because the man himself gradually became as equally eager, reaching out to clutch the material of Hunter’s shirt as they deepened the kiss. Hunter knew there were going to be consequences for fighting Geomancer tonight—most importantly, alerting Garrick to the fact that someone was now running around the city dressed as him—but Hunter was going to take his victories where he could find them and celebrate them accordingly.

Which is why when they eventually parted for air and Harrison’s gaze flickered up to the clock on the kitchen wall, Hunter stroked his left cheek with his thumb and said, “Stay. _Please_.”

“I…” Harrison’s expression was a mix of fear and longing.

Hunter was momentarily concerned that the man would pull away, too afraid to proceed. Hunter didn’t know what he would do then. He _wasn’t_ a good person—not the obedient little boy the nuns at the orphanage wanted him to be and certainly not the shining hero Harrison thought he was. There was a limit to his patience and his good will, and _this_ was about as far as he could safely stretch it…

Hunter’s mouth went dry.

Gradually, he realized he himself was trembling.

Then Harrison reached up to pull the goggles off his forehead and tossed them onto the table beside Hunter’s things, and since that was as good as any sign Hunter was going to get tonight, he took it the man’s unspoken surrender for what it was and led him silently to the bedroom..

Once inside, he pulled Harrison closer, making a start on the buttons of his crisp white dress shirt as the man struggled to shrug off his jacket. As soon as both of these were off, Hunter pushed Harrison back toward the bed.

Hunter didn’t tap into his powers, but he made quick work of removing his uniform, eyes locked on Harrison as his companion slipped out of what remained of his own clothing. When they were both completely naked, Harrison sat down on the edge of the bed and just stared up at Hunter, studying his face, as though there was something about Hunter he couldn’t quite figure out yet…

Hunter didn’t say anything, simply walked over to his bedside table and opened the top drawer, collecting a bottle of lube and a foiled condom before returning to where Harrison was sitting. The man wasn’t quite hard yet, but Hunter rectified that quickly enough by sinking to his knees on the carpet floor.

Harrison swallowed.

Hunter smirked.

After depositing the lube and condom on the floor beside him, he reached forward to push against Harrison’s chest, wordlessly instructing him to lie back, and then he hooked each of the man’s legs over his shoulders. Gentleman that he was, Harrison fisted one hand in the quilt beside his hip and ran the other one through his own hair instead of grabbing Hunter, stomach visibly twitching as Hunter took the head of him into his mouth.

He sucked gently for a while, eyeing the way Harrison tightened his grip on the quilt. The man had a fantastic body. Flawless, really. The stuff of dreams.

Slowly, Hunter began to take him a little deeper.

Harrison’s breath hitched in the back of his throat.

Bobbing his head slowly, Hunter closed his eyes and focused on the way Harrison trembled beneath him, on the miniscule movements of his hips, holding himself back as though trying to be polite. Hunter almost smiled. Instead, he relaxed his throat and took him all the way down, relishing the way Harrison swore softly under his breath.

“ _Jay_ ,” the man gasped, chest heaving.

Hunter tried to ignore the way his stomach dropped at the sound of his brother’s name.

It wasn’t as though he could ask Harrison to call him anything else, of course, but it still stung. It served as a reminder that he would _never_ have his twin completely beat until this little charade of his was over, because as long as Harrison worked for ‘Jay Garrick’— _adored_ ‘Jay Garrick’, Hunter would remain nothing more than a shadow, a nobody in the periphery of his vision…

Opening his eyes again, Hunter slowly worked his way back up with one long, hard press of his tongue against the underside of Harrison cock. The man said something else, but it wasn’t in English, then bit his lower lip as Hunter retreated.

Hunter flicked open the bottle of lube, a sound that was almost deafening in the darkness, and said, “Are you okay?”

Harrison was still lying back, so Hunter couldn’t see his face, but he did catch the way the man nodded his assent. “I’m…You’re really good at this.”

Hunter grinned, pouring a little lube out onto his fingers. “Maybe even the best?”

Harrison’s body shook as he chuckled. He seized up suddenly though when Hunter darted out his tongue to lavish the tip of Harrison’s cock, the taste of pre-cum wonderful and sharp. “ _Yeah_ ” he said breathlessly. “Yeah…I think you are.”

Hunter opened his mouth a little wider and took him whole again, just as he pressed his first finger in.

Harrison tensed, hand shooting out to grab Hunter by his hair this time. He somehow managed to stop himself short from yanking on it though, instead simply running his fingers through the strands. Harrison relaxed even more as he grew accustomed to the sensation, hips bucking a little as Hunter began to thrust, crooking his finger slightly upward in search of Harrison’s prostate.

When he felt the man loosening up, he added a second finger, scissoring them gently, so hard now himself he could almost get off like this, down on his knees, pleasuring somebody else with his hand and mouth. That was perhaps why he added the third finger sooner than he should’ve, earning a soft hiss of pain from Harrison. But since no protest was forthcoming, he continued his ministrations, feeling somewhat elated that _he_ , the supposed _degenerate_ , was the brother with the world’s most brilliant man in his bed.

When Harrison’s grip on his hair tightened, not hard enough to hurt, but certainly enough to betray the fact that the end was near, Hunter let him slip from his mouth and planted a kiss on the inside of his left thigh. “Getting close?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, removing his hand from Hunter’s hair. Bonelessly, he dropped it to bed beside his hip.

Hunter pulled his fingers out and leaned back to collect the condom foil and the lube off the floor. He tossed both of these onto the bed and slowly slid the man’s knees off his shoulders before leaning forward to kiss his sternum. “As much as I love the taste of you...”

Harrison didn’t need him to spell it out. He scooted back until his head was resting against the pillows. “How do you want to do this?”

“This is perfect,” Hunter told him, climbing up off the floor and onto the bed. He gently pushed Harrison’s thighs apart and knelt between them, then reached over to his side for the condom.

Harrison watched him carefully, eyes half-lidded, seemingly exhausted.

Something was weighing down on Harrison’s mind, but Hunter didn’t care too much to find out why at the moment. He tore open the foil, rolled on the condom, and lubed himself up. Then he hooked Harrison’s left leg over his arm and shifted his hips a little closer. “Harry…?”

“Loath as I am to admit it, I’m not as flexible as I once was,” Harrison murmured, just as Hunter pushed his right leg a little farther open. “Please, keep that in mind.”

Hunter offered him a small smile.

Then he pressed himself slowly inward.

Harrison shifted, but didn’t say anything. Hunter continued to inch his way inside, pausing every now and again to give Harrison a brief reprieve, until he was completely settled.

The man felt about as good as he imagined. Hot and tight. _Beautiful_. And he cut such a remarkably lean figure too. The man had muscle, but he was still such a skinny guy. Trim, like a runner.

Unabashed, Hunter admired him openly as he began to roll his hips, marveling at how well they fit together in the darkness.

As with all things in his life, Hunter gradually built momentum, closing his eyes as he lost himself to this familiar game of push and pull. It felt as though he was finally getting what he deserved, right here, right now, with perhaps the only other living being he could possibly want to share this experience with.

Eventually though, Harrison winced, jerking his right leg sharply out of Hunter’s grip. Belatedly, Hunter realized he’d been pushing too hard on the other man’s knee.

Concerned, Hunter dropped Harrison’s other leg and shifted his whole body forward, using his arms to support his new position. He had no problem doing this missionary.

Neither did Harrison, who probably preferred it even more since it took some off the tension off his legs, slowly rolling his hips in tandem with Hunter as he picked up the pace again. He panted gently into Hunter’s ear as they rocked together, and dug his nails into his back, writhing against him like some wanton thing.

“That’s it,” Hunter growled against his neck. “Give me everything.”

“ _Jay_ …” Harrison breathed desperately.

Hunter began to fuck him a little harder.

Which was perhaps a mistake, because he reached his climax without warning, losing his rhythm completely to the white hot sensation that radiated out from his groin and up his spine. It was wonderful, if a bit disappointing, so he tried to focus entirely on the way Harrison clenched pleasantly around him as he rode his orgasm out.

Harrison didn’t come immediately after him, so once Hunter’s brain finally caught up with the rest of him, he stopped rutting into the man and slowly pulled himself out, shifting back a little so he could duck his head down to take him back into his mouth.

Harrison jerked in surprise. He was so close himself, he came suddenly with a cry, muffling it against his hand as Hunter sucked him off, back and neck arching as he was finally tipped over the edge. And Hunter took quite the satisfaction in watching him fall, delighted by the fact that he had been responsible for this man’s pleasure.

Once Harrison began to fidget, oversensitive now to Hunter’s attentions, Hunter slowly sat up and swallowed, enjoying the way Harrison looked as though he had been completely sapped of his strength. “How was that?”

“In a word?” Harrison asked, voice a little raspy. Exhausted, he closed his eyes. “Intense…I guess we finally have an answer to our _‘does he sweat during sex’_ quandary from a month ago.”

 “You’d like to think that, but every good experiment requires multiple trials.” Hunter pointed out, wiping a bead of perspiration off his brow. “We’ll have to give it another go sometime.”

This earned him a hearty laugh from Harrison, who squinted his eyes at Hunter and said, “I suppose you’re right.”

Hunter smiled and crawled off the bed.

He wandered across the room to the en suite bathroom to dispose of the condom and rinse out his mouth, watching Harrison’s still form on the bed over the shoulder of his reflection. He was somewhat in awe at how well this evening had turned out, although he couldn’t quite tell why. After all, he certainly _deserved_ this…

When he was finished, he returned to the room and climbed back onto the bed. It took a bit of maneuvering, but eventually he got Harrison to roll off the covers so that they could both crawl underneath them. Then Hunter gently laid his head down on the man’s chest so he could listen to his heart beat, smiling to himself when Harry placed his hand on the back of Hunter’s neck and began stoking the shorter hairs there.

He felt completely satisfied with himself tonight.

He felt…human.

**Author's Note:**

> I figured that if I had to make you suffer through almost 16000 words of dialogue and background information, the least I could do was reward you with some sex at the end of the chapter. But don’t be fooled, my friends -- Hunter is as evil as they come.
> 
> Aside: Comments, questions, and concerns are always more than welcome (even if its just grammar issues), but if you're really upset with something and don't want to say it in the comments section, you can also send a private or anonymous message to my tumblr account here: [cocoa-the-maniac](http://cocoa-the-maniac.tumblr.com). But I promise, I don't bite. ;)


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